


Daffodils In Bloom

by k2_b0



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Gen, Internalized Homophobia, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, begging god to stop being lame & just kill me, mostly based on my own experiences lel, no direct narrative its all just a bunch of shit, there is a slur used once. tr/nny i think, vent fic heh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 07:37:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17935574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/k2_b0/pseuds/k2_b0
Summary: The truth is, she never knew a thing.-Momota’s journey in self discovery has lasted fifteen years in counting.





	Daffodils In Bloom

Momota Chiharu was born in the morning.

 

According to her grandparents, she was a beautiful baby with a full head of hair, dark skin and an awfully loud cry. She didn’t particularly care about the details other than “she was born,” and would have much rather spent her time with the other kids running along the river than listening to boring stories of the past. But her grandparents disagreed, and kept her home.

 

“Because you’re a girl,” her grandfather told her once, “you need to stay home and learn to cook with your granny.”

 

Chiharu wasn’t interested in cooking. Not in the slightest, actually. Cooking was a bit like sewing and wearing dresses: they were girly, and she hated girly things more than life itself. The girls at school always started rumors and got into fights. Chiharu preferred spending time fighting with the boys over tripping other girls in the hallways. If being a girl meant that she would need to be involved in “girl stuff,” she’d rather be a boy.

 

Of course, her grandparents fervently disagreed with this and told her that she could be a “tomgirl” instead. Chiharu found herself clinging to the word for many years to come, never willing to give up on the thought of being a boy. At least after picking up the word, she was allowed to leave to the house.

 

-

 

“Hey, Chiharu, why’re you even a girl?” a boy in her elementary class had asked her a long time ago, one hand squeezing tight around a beetle. It was in the middle of summer, with the sun burning into their backs and searing freckles into their skin. The boy picked up his beetle and pulled one of it’s legs straight off. “You’re way cooler than the lame ones in our class. You should be a boy too.”

 

“That’s stupid,” Chiharu replied. She snatched the beetle away from him and set it on the floor of the forest. Her hair was matted with twigs and dirt, halfway down her back. “I can’t be a boy ‘cause I’m already a girl. That’s real stupid.”

 

“Says who?” The boy questioned. He leaned up to pick the bug up again, but Chiharu stopped him with her arm. He thumped her in the head and reached out once more before Chiharu tackled him to the ground. “Says who!” He repeated, one hand around her arm, “you can’t be a girl if you’re like this!”

 

Chiharu knocked his front tooth out. The beetle limped away.

 

-

 

“I don’t wanna wear it, Granny!” Chiharu whined, stomping a foot and crawling away from her grandmother’s prying grip. A yellow sundress was being pulled over her head. “I hate dresses, get it off!”

 

Her grandmother popped her across the mouth. “You don’t _hate_ anything, Chiharu.” She said firmly, finally managing to get the dress on all the way without Chiharu’s struggling. “And you’ve got to; it’s your cousin’s wedding.”

 

Chiharu’s lip trembled, but she refused to let herself cry. Instead she gripped at the bottom of the dress with both hands and stared holes into the corner of the room. “Why can’t I just stay home? She doesn’t even know me anyways.”

 

“Common courtesy.”

 

“I hate common courtesy.”

 

“What did I just say about hating things?” Knocking her back onto the bed, her grandmother picked up a pair of sandals and slid them onto to Chiharu’s feet. “Your cousin will appreciate it, you know. Just deal with it until we get home.”

 

Chiharu dealt with it, certainly. But only after being given clip-on earrings and overhearing that only grownups get to wear earrings. If she were grown up, she could get away with wearing whatever she wanted.

 

She wore her dress and clip-ons with pride.

 

-

 

As a kid, she had always been obsessed with the idea of aliens being real. It was called a boy thing, but Chiharu didn’t particularly care about that.

 

Because, why would aliens care about being a girl thing or boy thing? They were aliens. They could do what they liked.

 

After studying about space for years on end, she found that aliens would most definitely not care about it at all. Space was huge, and Chiharu slowly became obsessed with it. The planets, the solar system, stars, and the moon. All of them looked so far away, but were so, so close at the same time.

 

Sometimes she would cry while looking at them, wishing it were her suspended in the air and looking down on all the people. But she was her, and she was so small.

 

-

 

When she was eleven, her entire world collapsed on itself and spun around like a top.

 

To put it frankly, there was blood.

 

Chiharu had charged from the bathroom in a panic, pants halfway down and screaming for her grandmother to come quickly. She had, wearing her socks and sliding across the hardwood floor expecting to see her granddaughter stabbed to death on the ground. Instead she saw her with tears rolling down her cheeks, holding to top of her jeans and red in the face.

 

“There’s blood, Granny,” she said, and the older woman had known immediately.

 

Her face softened. “It’s okay, Chi. Go clean up, and I’ll see you in a second.”

 

After doing what she was told to and washing her shaking hands, Chiharu had stepped out of the bathroom and into her grandmother’s arms, sobbing. Every single “it’s okay” and “you’re growing up” did nothing to calm her down.

 

She cried for two hours until passing out.

 

(If growing up meant this, Chiharu would rather die.)

 

-

 

In junior high, she accepted femininity with wearily opened arms. It was like a bush of thorns was giving her a welcoming hug. Her school uniform had a skirt, something she wasn’t too thrilled about, but after time passed she came to not mind it. Being a girl wasn’t a “problem” anymore, per say. There wasn’t girl drama and boy drama rolled into individual categories anymore. Just weird preteens trying to kill each other while staying afloat.

 

Even if she had accepted her own girlishness, Chiharu found it hard to fit in. Her obsession with space had only grown over the years, and the place she had found with the boys had been ripped from her without a second’s mercy. The concept of makeup was lost on her, and her hair was staticky all of the time.

 

Putting it into her own thoughts, she was definitely ugly.

 

Chiharu found nothing about herself attractive. Her voice was too high and squeaky, she was too skinny, her legs were too close together, and her chest was two different sizes. She was gross.

 

A girl told her so once, and it shattered her weak confidence like glass.

 

She threw herself into studying and never looked back. _Aliens would never judge me_ , she would think, and it would all get easier.

 

-

 

In her second year a boy asked her out. It was strange, admittedly, but she agreed and they went out on a single date.

 

Not only was it strange, it was also a joke.

 

She caught on the moment that there was laughter from the booth behind theirs, followed by her date blushing bright red and reaching for his phone. Chiharu had stood up and left quietly, ignoring how the boy sputtered uselessly and reached out for her.

 

Past the corner of the diner they were at, she started running.

 

Boys were the worst.

 

-

 

Chiharu had never truly thought about shaving before. The concept had crossed her mind once or twice before, but actually getting out a razor and cropping her leg hair off? Hell no! Who would even want to do that kind of thing?

 

The girls in her class, apparently.

 

“Ew,” Chiharu overheard a girl whispering to her friends and looked back to see her classmate pointing at her and scowling. “Look at Momota’s legs. Does she even know how to use a razor? That’s so gross.”

 

Chiharu grit her teeth. “If you’re gonna talk about me, do it to my face!” She whirled back on them and yelled, making the bystanders jump and alerting the teachers to whatever was going on around them.

 

She went home unaffected in their eyes. In hers, she cut herself in a hundred different ways trying to make her legs smooth.

 

-

 

Gym class was awful. Even more so than the rest of the day, which was really saying something. Seriously, it was impressive.

 

Chiharu was surprised when she realized she liked girls, obviously. She hadn’t known it was possible to begin with. Girls liked boys, boys liked girls, the sky was blue, et cetera. It was all facts of life. But when the class pretty girl™️ bent over to pick something up in front of her, accidentally flashing her and her alone, Chiharu had died a bit inside.

 

_Aliens wouldn’t care_ , she thought, slapping at her flushed cheeks, _neither would the moon. They wouldn’t care at all._

 

So her gay awakening had passed simply and shortly, with Chiharu deciding to never tell her grandparents the truth. It was decided after many hours of crying and panicking and having terrible nightmares, but it was decided nonetheless.

 

But gym class. Oh, gym class.

 

The girls she knew were all so much more attractive than her. They were developing fast, but not quite as fast as her. She was already five foot seven at thirteen, with C cup breasts. She was like a grown woman among a crowd of elementary schoolers: sticking out like a sore thumb. On top of her fast growth, she was also more muscular than any of her friends, having been training for years to get to space.

 

Changing in the stall came easily to her. And if her gaze lingered on the boys locker room for longer than it should’ve, she would blame it on hormones or something. What else could it be?

 

-

 

Chiharu went to the library once. It sounds like the set up to a joke, but it actually was just once in her life. She’d been given a computer after the first time and hadn’t been since.

 

At the library on that single instance, she had found a book titled “The Theory of Gender Sciences”. It was an accidental find while she was looking for books about space and such. The book had spoken on things like transgenders, homosexuality, and things relating to those. She found them interesting, and... something else that she was scared to look into.

 

(She couldn’t be anything but herself.)

 

-

 

“God,” her grandfather scowled at the TV, “another stupid tranny is walkin’ around like they own the damn place.”

 

“Dear, that’s rude.”

 

The old man gestured at the screen with his beer bottle angrily. “I don’t give a rats ass! Chiharu, ya see this shit? Don’t you ever end up like those freaks.”

 

“I won’t, Gramps.” Chiharu replied, hands still in her lap.

 

-

 

Summer break before her third year was when everything changed for real. She snuck onto a train and left town for the city, hoping to find out things about herself and the world. It went as planned, almost.

 

On the train someone groped her ass, and she knocked their lights out. A boy who looked a few years younger than her had seen and high fived her hard, eyes glittering and face bright. “I’m Ouma,” he told her, omitting his first name for some reason, “and that’s probably the best thing I’ve seen in a year.”

 

Chiharu introduced herself as well, told him her goal, and went on her way with a new companion at her heels. She got herself a haircut in case the police wanted to get on her tail for assaulting a man (something that made her heart speed up a lot more than it probably should have) and kept going along.

 

It turned out that Ouma was just as secretive as she had expected him to be, but was willing to help her to her goal. She had been talking to a close friend online about getting some fake credentials in order to take the official test in order to become an actual astronaut for quite some time, but was having trouble with the directions.

 

Ouma led her to her spot and stood outside to wait. When Chiharu came back with her “official” papers, he leaned over her shoulder and pulled it from her hands.

 

“You look kind of like a boy in this picture, with your hair cut.” He said, and Chiharu’s mind went blank.

 

Something about that... made her happy.

 

She grabbed onto Ouma’s wrist before he could pull away, making him flinch. “Say that again,” she whispered, and Ouma frowned at her.

 

“...You look like a boy,” he repeated, confused.

 

Chiharu thought back on the book she read all those years ago.

 

She had an idea.

 

-

 

“Oh,” Ouma said to her, stirring the drink she’d bought him. “So that’s why you looked like you were gonna piss yourself.” He twisted his straw up and tried drinking from it. “I know a guy who can give you the surgeries and shit. He did it for me, and he owes me a favor anyway.”

 

Chiharu turned him down after three seconds of hard thought.

 

-

 

She spent the rest of the summer thinking hard about everything with Ouma at her side, doing his best to piss her off. Her grandparents were told about where she was, and they let her stay in the city with the looming threat of killing her when she came back.

 

The threat didn’t bother her all that much.

 

When summer ended, she and Ouma exchanged phone numbers and went their own ways. Oddly enough, she was happier than she had ever been before.

 

-

 

In her third year of middle school, Chiharu became someone achingly familiar yet chillingly new. She returned to the city and got those important papers of hers changed, her picture retaken. Because the person from a year ago had disappeared, and was replaced with someone else.

 

He was Momota Kaito, and he was going to space. Because in space, no one can judge you, no matter how much you scream.

**Author's Note:**

> my brain: don’t put ouma in this fic. don’t put ouma in this fic PLEASE dont p
> 
> my fingers: oh shit my bad homie i misheard
> 
> (also, like the tags say: everything in this fic is pretty much based off of my own experiences. sorry if it’s kind of strange & clunky!)
> 
> (( an edit bc i forgot! follow my Epic danganronpa sideblog: https://k2-b0.tumblr.com/ ))


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